


A Prescription for Friendship

by Ginia



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Doctor!Noct, Fluff, Gen, Sick!Iggy, They're smol babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 09:17:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12578516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginia/pseuds/Ginia
Summary: When everyone but Noctis fails to notice how sick Ignis is, it's up to the small prince to ensure that Ignis gets better.Noctis clearly has not gone to medical school, but he really does mean well.





	A Prescription for Friendship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaciopara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaciopara/gifts).



> A prompt from the wonderful jaciopara who wanted Noctis taking care of a sick iggy.

“Achoo!”

“Bless you, son.” Regis smiles gently as he reaches down to ruffle his son’s hair.

Noctis looks up, dark brows knitting together in confusion.  He hadn’t sneezed but rather Ignis had.  The eight-year-old Chamberlain-in-training was sitting at his side, his red and runny nose studiously buried in a textbook where he probably hopes no one will notice how ill he looks.

Noctis peeks up at his father, big blue eyes awash with concern - his friend has been sniffling and coughing all day and shivering despite the unseasonably warm spring weather. Clearly something is wrong, but none of the grown ups seem to have noticed. They never seem to notice anything.

Pudgy fingers wrap around a fold of the King’s cape, tugging feebly at the heavy fabric to no avail. Regis has his gaze turned towards a report, and doesn’t notice the silent plea for attention.

The Prince’s plump lower lip juts out in a childish pout. Apparently, all of the grown ups are too preoccupied to notice Ignis’s plight, and the serious bespectacled boy is too devoted to his duty to say anything himself.

Noctis watches, heart twisting into knots, as Ignis smothers a cough with his palm, cheeks tinting pink with the effort to keep silent so as to avoid drawing attention to himself, or to avoid disturbing the important adults around them who are busy with important work.

Noctis thinks that it’s really not very fair. If he, Noctis, were as sick as Ignis seems to be, someone would have noticed by now. There would be a huge fuss, with maids scurrying hither and thither to make him soup and get him medicines. Ignis is his best friend in the entire world and he deserves as much care and love as the Prince.

Chubby cheeks puff out with barely suppressed exasperation, Noctis snatches the book straight out of Ignis’s hands. Shaking his head, he grabs Ignis’s hand and laces their fingers together.

“Iggy come?” The Prince tugs on the small Advisor’s hand.

Glassy emerald eyes blink at him in confusion, looking from the discarded book to the Prince, but ever obedient Ignis forces himself to his feet despite his reservations.

The eyes of Palace caretakers and guards track their progress as the young boys patter their way towards the Prince’s rooms, never left unattended or unsafe.

“This way!” Noctis insists, dragging his feverish Advisor along.

“Y-yes Highness,” Ignis murmurs weakly.  His voice sounds scratchy and sore, making Noctis frown unhappily.

When the little boys are safely tucked away in Noct’s room the Prince points at the bed, a ridiculously large four-poster with a black canopy adorned with shining silver stars and far more pillows than any one child could hope to use.

“Iggy. Get in the bed.” The young Prince orders.

Ignis frowns, brows scrunching together in consternation. “That’s your bed though, Highness. I shouldn’t…”

Noctis shrugs his small shoulders. “When I feel bad Daddy let’s me sleep in his bed.  I umn thought you would want mine? Cuz you sound scratchy and snotty.” Noct scuffs a toe shyly against the marble floor. He wonders if maybe he didn’t think this through properly.  Would Ignis be more comfy in his own bed? Or his uncle’s perhaps? His lower lip wobbles alarmingly at the thought that maybe he’s not helping his friend after all - a friend who’s been there for him through all of his colds, splinters, scraped knees and beyond. All he wants to do is what’s right for Ignis.

“Oh Highness…” A watery smile takes over Ignis’s features as to Noct’s joy he toes off his shoes and climbs up onto the massive fluffy bed.

“Good Ignis.  Now do what I say, k?”

“You are my Prince.” Ignis smiles until the need to cough overwhelms him and he buries his face politely in the crook of his arm until the fit subsides.

“Today I’m your doctor,” Noctis declares with all of the self-importance of a six-year-old

“Oh? Well then, yes Doctor Noctis,” Ignis agrees readily, peridot eyes alight with mirth. Also fever, but definitely mirth as well. “What do you prescribe?”

Noct taps a finger against a round cheek, humming thoughtfully. “Sleep.”

Chuckling between coughs Ignis obediently lays down, allowing his tired head to rest against a mountain of pillows. Noct is at his side in an instant, awkwardly pulling Ignis’s glasses off.  With the brunette’s help he manages to not poke Ignis in the eye.

Noctis clutches the thick comforter, pulling it up until it’s tucked neatly under Ignis’s chin. Clumsy hands pat at the blankets, tucking them securely around the shivering little boy.

“Thank you,” Ignis says, voice dissolving into a sad little wheeze.

“Shh.  No talking. Doctor’s orders.” Noctis scowls. Ignis needs to save his voice.

Ignis nods weakly, too exhausted from fighting against his illness all day to put up any more resistance now.

“Wait here kay?” Noctis pats Ignis’s head clumsily before toddling off to the en-suite bathroom to fetch a damp cloth and a cup of water.  The damp cloth is laid tenderly across Ignis’s too-warm brow and the cup held to dry lips. Some water dribbles down Ignis’s chin and onto the comforter but neither boy minds, they have more urgent concerns, such as making Ignis well again.

Noctis tugs a tissue from the little container on his bedside table, holding it under Ignis’s nose.

“Blow,” he commands and again Ignis obeys. Tomorrow he can regret exposing his Prince to his germs, and allowing him to be used like a servant even if It was his royal idea. For now he’s content to bask in the other boy’s care. It feels nice, a warmth that fills him from the inside out, chasing away the chills and shivers of his illness.

Having administered all of the medical care that his six-year-old brain has retained from his own past illnesses there’s nothing left for Noctis to do but clamber up onto the bed beside his Ignis and settle down to rest beside him, his smaller body wedged in against Ignis’s.

Several hours later a concerned Regis and Clarus enter the Prince’s bedroom to find the two boys fast asleep, arms draped over each other in twin gestures of comfort.

 


End file.
